


No Questions Asked

by popfly



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Gapfillerpalooza, Hate Crimes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-24
Updated: 2005-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:24:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gapfiller for season two, episode two. Justin starts to remember prom night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Questions Asked

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't watch the show, spoiler, Justin gets bashed at the end of season one.

The party was in full swing all around us, kids running and screaming, parents drinking juice from plastic cups and clutching plates of half-eaten birthday cake. Gus was swinging the little plastic bat Lindsay had just unwrapped, and they were all laughing, and the bat was moving through the air ...

_Footsteps behind me, not Brian's, the Jeep door swinging open ..._

Brian turned and looked at me, his grin falling and his brow furrowing. I shook my head, squeezed my eyes closed, held out a hand and felt myself sway slightly.

"Justin."

_"Justin!"_

I turned, still smiling, holding tight to the ends of Brian's white silk scarf, feeling like I was floating ten feet above the cement floor of the parking garage. Then I saw him. Brian, running towards me and just in front of him Hobbs holding the bat. Then he swung.

I lurched forwards and Brian wrapped an arm around me, shuffling his feet and turning my back to the party, holding my face against his neck. "Justin."

"Oh god." My stomach rolled and my eyes burned. "I feel like I'm going to be sick."

Brian kept his arm crooked around my neck and walked backwards, pulling me along, until we were inside and the door was closed against the shouts and laughs and cheers. "You're okay, you're okay," he chanted, his mouth pressed to my temple, over my hairline, over the scar, oh _god_.

"Brian ... " I started, sliding a hand between us and up his chest to cover my mouth.

"Okay, okay." 

I stayed tight to his side as he practically dragged me to the bathroom, and he hovered near my shoulder as I hung my head over the toilet.

_The bat seemed to move in slow motion, and the last thing I saw was Brian's open mouth in sharp focus behind the blur of Hobbs' contorted face before the crack and then nothing, just black, nothing ..._

I groaned and my stomach clenched and Brian came closer, his shoes squeaking on the tile, and leaned down to place one hand on my back as I vomited.

*****

I couldn't sit still while he slept.

I flipped through sixty channels on the TV, hearing the click as the numbers went up but not seeing the brief glimpses of the shows and movies and commercials I was passing through. I paced laps around the sofa, running my fingers through my hair so much I was sure it was standing on end. I even stood at the foot of the bed for a few long minutes, watching his eyelashes flutter against his cheek, his skin pale and washed an eerie blue from the lights above the bed, his right hand cradled against his side. I waited for the thrashing to begin, the muttering and the moaning, but nothing happened.

I drank three glasses of water and then washed the cup even though it wasn't really dirty. I checked my e-mail and my voice mail, and then went back to the kitchen.

My skin was itchy, and my chest was tight. I ran my fingers through my hair again and finally decided to take a shower.

I plodded up the bedroom steps, fingers lifting towards the buttons of my shirt, and I flicked my eyes over to the bed.

And he was sitting up, watching me.

I had no idea what to do next.

*****

"I want you inside me."

I could barely make out Brian's face in the dark, my body throwing shadows over his cheeks. I could see the lines in his forehead though, and the way his shoulders tensed.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, trying desperately to keep my heart from exploding out of my chest. I wasn't sure, not one hundred percent. I wasn't sure that I wouldn't freak when he touched me, I wasn't sure the panicky feeling wouldn't return. But I was sure that I wanted him, that I wanted to feel his hands and mouth on my skin, that I wanted him inside me.

I slipped the top button of his shirt through its hole and moved my palm along his collarbone, my fingertips brushing his warm dry skin and then brushing something silky beneath his shirt. I leaned forward slightly, shifting towards him, circling my fingers and tugging ... the scarf.

Brian had the scarf around his neck under his shirt.

It was stiff in the spots where my blood had dried, and the rest of it glowed in the bedroom light. I stared down at it looped around my hand, a million questions racing through my head. Why was he wearing it? Had he been all this time?

He was watching me, his whole body tight, waiting to see what I'd do.

So I dropped the scarf on the floor and pushed his shirt off his shoulder. He had tried to save me, was still trying to save me, and I wanted to let him.

No questions asked.


End file.
